


A Game of Wits

by NiftyNicky21



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Card Games, Cock Tease, M/M, Tie Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiftyNicky21/pseuds/NiftyNicky21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur finds Eames making money like he normally does, gambling in a seedy bar. Eames invites him back to his motel room for drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Wits

            Arthur tossed the last of his whiskey back and stood to join the growing crowd around a table at the back of the bar. He straightened his tie, smoothing it beneath his suit jacket and then pushed his way to the front of the group.

“Which one of you lovely darlings would like to pick a card?” Eames smiled while shuffling the deck of cards. “No tricks, it’s your mind versus mine.” Arthur pulled a hundred dollar bill from his money clip and tossed it onto the table.

“I like those odds.” Eames’ face registered surprise for just a moment as Arthur took a seat in front of him. “May I?” Eames handed him the deck with a smirk. He split the deck and shuffled three times before fanning them out face up on the table. The weight of the cards was right and there was no mark that he could readily see without further examining the cards. With a practiced finger, he flipped the entire deck, shuffled one last time and gave the cards back to Eames.

“Satisfied,” He asked with a huff.

“Never,” Arthur grinned.

“Now, darlings, for those of you who have just joined us, the object of this little game is simple. Pick three cards, write them down for the audience to see, if I can’t bring them to the table you win the game.”

“No tricks?” Arthur picked up the pad of paper and pen on the table with a smirk that rivaled Eames’. He paused for a moment, calculating his odds and proceeded to write down three cards. He showed it to the audience, mindful of the possibility of him having a partner in the crowd. He turned around to see the man shuffling the deck with a mad grin on his face. With a flourish, Eames spread the deck out in a straight line, face down across the table. The murmur of bar conversation grew quiet. He pushed a card out near the far left of the deck towards Arthur.

“Would you show the first card to the audience, darling?” The purr in the man’s voice made his stomach tighten with unease. He peeked at the card and then revealed the ten of diamonds with an exasperated sigh to the audience. There was half-hearted applause, but the tension still held for the reveal.

“Don’t want to show your hand all at once, eh?” He settled his back against the chair, trying to give off an air of nonchalance.

“And spoil the showmanship and surprise,” Eames picked a shot of tequila off the tray of a passing waiter. “Never,” He pushed a card towards the very right forward. Arthur flipped it with a finger to reveal the four of spades. The crowd gave a low rumble of approval this time. Eames took the shot of tequila and placed the empty glass on the final card, pushing it forward. Arthur searched the man’s face for a tell, a signal, anything to tip off where he had gotten the information. All he got was a canary-eating grin. He set the shot glass to the side and revealed his final card to the audience. A raucous cry went up as the ace of clubs was laid on the table. Eames snatched the bill from the table. “A round of tequila for the house on my friend here,” Arthur felt heat rising up his neck.

“If we’re friends, then you won’t mind me increasing the wager.”

“Oh, come now, don’t be a sore loser.” Eames chided.

“I’m not being sore. I’m making things interesting.” He pulled his money clip out, pulled a black card out of the cash, and tossed it onto the playing cards. “Your winnings for the night against my premiere card,” Eames’ eyes went wide. He unbuttoned the second button of his shirt and shook out his collar for more air.

“You sure about this, darling,” Eames set the card near the edge of the table and dug into his pockets for two rolls of rubber-banded cash. “I wouldn’t want to cheat you.”

“Positive,” Arthur held the man’s gaze while he shuffled again.

“Well, you know the rules. Pick your cards.” He motioned at the pen. Arthur scribbled away and then showed the audience with a grin. He turned back, placing the pad face down on the table, pleased with the disconcerted look on Eames’ face. “Would you like to cut the deck?”

“No, thank you.”

“Very well,” The cards were arranged in the same fashion as before and Eames selected the first card.

“The eight of spades is correct, my good man.” Arthur set the card in front of him, keeping a steady gaze on the panic mounting in the man’s eyes. He made his second selection with some hesitation. “As is the six of diamonds, only one card left,” The tension in the room was palpable as Eames stared long and hard at the deck before making his final decision. Arthur peeked at the card and set it back on the table with a satisfied grin. He waved an audience member to the table and had them read aloud the last card he had written down.

“La reine des coeurs,” Arthur grinned. “For the non-French speaking members of our audience, that is the queen of hearts. My kind sir, would you show this card to the rest of the audience?” Eames hung his head in shame as the king of hearts was revealed. “A round of whiskey for the house on my friend, here,” He stood, securing the roll of bank notes in his pocket and then settled his tab at the bar.

 

            “There’s no need to be a sore loser, Eames.” Arthur grinned as the surly man walked down the alley towards him. He had waited outside for a good thirty minutes for him.

“I don’t consider it a loss since you cheated. Cigarette,” Eames held a silver case of rolled cigarettes out towards him.

“No, thank you.” Arthur fell into step with the man as they headed down the block.

“So, what brings you to New Orleans, Arthur?” Eames took a long drag off the fag and blew smoke out of his nose.

“Boredom, mostly, and the rumors of a job,” It had been almost eight months since their job for Saito. He’d had no contact with Cobb or any other team member since. “How did I cheat? I wrote down the name of all three cards. You never said it couldn’t be in another language.”

“You took advantage of my inability to spell.”

“I have to admit, it was impressive. I thought you had a partner in the crowd.”

“And give up part of my share,” He took another puff off the cigarette. “Never,”

“So you read that all in my hand motions?” Arthur couldn’t help but be impressed.

“And your shoulders and face, don’t underestimate me, now. I could impersonate your mother better than she could, given the right preparation. Body language is the gateway into a person’s essence. You can tell where they were raised, if they had siblings, whether they’re introverted or extroverted, hell, even who they’re attracted to. I should say especially who they’re attracted to.” Arthur pushed his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting and felt the rolls of cash.

“Here,” He held out the money to Eames. “I lost my cool, earlier.”

“Oh, please, darling,” He accepted the money with a chuckle and put it in his pocket. “Did you really think that was the whole pot?”

“Oh, really, I guess I’ll take it back then.” Arthur moved to pick the man’s pocket, but a firm grasp stayed his hand.

“You’re not drunk, Arthur.” Eames stopped and looked down at him. “I’ve seen you drunk. This is something, something else.” Arthur hoped his blush wasn’t showing under the street light. He broke free of the man’s hand and started walking faster. “Oh, come on, you were doing so well.”

“I’m just tired and restless. I tried going straight when we got back here to the States, but I couldn’t keep a job. Nine to five will kill me. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’ve got something to fix that, but it is back at my motel room.” Eames tossed his cigarette butt into the night.

“I thought we were going to your hotel?” Arthur double-checked the street sign.

“We were going back to the hotel I let you think I was staying at. Did you really think you could tail me for four days without me noticing?” He grinned and turned up the next street.

 

            The E-Z Sleeper Motel with its angrily blinking, neon “No Vacancy” sign looked much more Eames’ style than the Silver Lines hotel where Arthur had been sleeping. He followed the man up creaking wooden stairs and into the room at the very end of the building. The room was tidy, and smelled of air freshener and tobacco. It was sparsely furnished with a queen-sized bed, table, two chairs, and a small ancient television on a rickety stand. Eames fiddled with the air conditioner, swore at it and then kicked it. The machine rattled to life angrily with a burst of hot air and then began to cool the room.

“Have a seat,” Eames motioned at the table. Arthur unbuttoned his jacket, shrugged it off his shoulders, and loosened his tie, before sitting down. He watched as the man punched a combination into a safe behind a wood panel in the wall. He grabbed a small bottle and slammed everything shut. “Would you care for another drink?” Arthur blinked into focus. He hadn’t noticed how intently he’d been watching the way the man’s shoulders were moving underneath his shirt.

“Yes, please,” He shifted his gaze to the wood grain on the table. Eames sat down across from him and set a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers down in front of him. He poured each of them a drink before setting an unlabeled prescription bottle on the table. Arthur took a sip, letting the warmth slide down his throat before speaking again. “What is it?”

“It’s something special that Yusuf gave to me before selling out to the pharmaceutical companies. A sleeping pill that actually helps people achieve natural REM sleep, he was working on it for people with blindness and PTSD before he started developing it for extractors.”

“So, natural sleep,” Arthur pondered.

“More peaceful then a baby nestled to her mother’s breast,” Eames sipped on the liquid and Arthur could feel the man’s eyes boring into him. “What are you really here for?”

“I don’t know.” He took a more than healthy gulp of whiskey and stared back down at the table.

“That’s funny. Because I think you do know and you’re too shy, ashamed, or afraid to say it.” Eames stood, walked around the table, and squatted down in front of him to look him straight in the face. “Your body is screaming right now, but I can’t help you until you say it out loud.” Fire burned in Arthur’s face. Those blue eyes were absolute torture.

“I need you.” The words were a whisper, but they had escaped his trembling lips. Eames’ hand curled around Arthur’s light blue silk tie.

“Just a little louder, darling,”

“I need you.” Arthur choked out. In an instant, he was pulled forward and down into the man’s warm mouth. They breathed as one, hands shaking and grasping at each other. Arthur leaned further out of his seat and they toppled backwards onto the carpet. Eames chuckled into his mouth.

“It’s about damn time,” Eames gripped him tight and rolled on top of him, pinning him beneath his muscular frame. He kissed his forehead and then nibbled his ear. “I thought I was going to have to drag it out of you the hard way.”

“There’s still plenty of opportunity for that.” Arthur hooked his legs around the man’s waist. With a swift motion, he shifted his weight and rolled them over so he was straddling Eames. His heart fluttered in his chest as he unbuttoned the man’s shirt, his fingertips brushing over the warm skin. He grinned, devilishly, and reached for the remainder of his whiskey. An eyebrow rose as he poured a small amount into Eames’ navel.

“Let me hold that, darling,” He took the tumbler from Arthur’s hand and took a sip. Arthur kissed down the man’s chest, letting his tongue drag slowly until he reached the navel. He closed his lips over the cavity and took a short breath, sucking the alcohol into his mouth before dipping his tongue in to taste what was left. He grinned as he heard a sharp inhale. Eames’ hand hooked his hair and pulled him forward. He took a sip from the tumbler and kissed Arthur, letting the warm liquid slide into his mouth. He kissed him, short and sweet, on the lips and wrapped his hand around the tie. “There’s a perfectly good bed behind us, you know, just in case you don’t want carpet burn.”

            Arthur let Eames drag him onto the bed. He was suddenly very aware of how warm he was in his clothes, even with the AC kicking out chilled air. He loosened his tie and prepared to undo it, but Eames’ hand stopped him.

“Leave the tie, it’s sexy.” He said with a lustful growl. Arthur just grinned and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. Eames looked as if he was drinking in the sight. Arthur paused as he reached his pants.

“Do you have, um,” Arthur flushed. He hadn’t even thought about protection. The job wasn’t supposed to get this complicated. He could still drug Eames and just drop him off to his employer. Shit, those eyes, though, they just tore right through him. Maybe that was why they had always butted heads.

“Protection, I’ve got it covered. Try the top drawer of that night stand.” Eames nodded his head to the right. Arthur leaned over and opened the drawer. A bottle of lube rolled forward on top of some condoms. He couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at the 9mm revolver at the back of the drawer. Eames offered up a good-natured smile. “You can never be too careful.”

“Oh, god,” Arthur clutched the sheets with his left hand as Eames bit onto his left shoulder. The man’s hands ran up his thighs and clutched at his ass cheeks. Arthur sighed. He was going to regret this later, but they were past the point of no return. He felt his cock stiffen against his pants. Eames’ fingers trailed around his waistline and unbuttoned his fly and then tugged the pants down. Arthur set the lube and condoms on the top of the night stand, his hands shaking. He swallowed hard and turned his attention back to Eames. The man was running a finger slowly up his erect cock.

“Relax, darling, you’re always so wound up.” Eames put his hands back on Arthur’s waist and pushed him onto his back. “Let me ease that tension.” He kissed down Arthur’s right side and hooked his fingers in his belt loops. He grinned and pulled quickly; letting the pants sail to the floor like a discarded candy wrapper. His hands moved slowly up the outside of Arthur’s thigh and he leaned down to kiss his hip.

Arthur closed his eyes and let his mind focus on each little sensation. He could feel sweat beginning to pool in the small of his back, running down his ass. The sheets were cheap and smelled of detergent. His hands balled into fists as Eames’ tongue made the first run up his shaft. His heart was pounding. He felt as if he was going to fall apart as the man’s hot mouth closed around him. He felt a tug at his neck and opened his eyes. Eames’ left hand had a tight grip on his tie. Arthur grinned and tightened the silk until it was snug against his throat. Eames pulled hard this time as he deep throated his cock. Arthur gasped and saw stars. His breath gurgled and Eames made some sound of approval. He let his fingers wander until they found the brown hair of Eames’ bobbing head. He raked his hands up the man’s head and felt another tug at the tie. The stars grew a brighter white. He sat up, gasping for air, and Eames sat back on his knees, letting some slack on his grip. Arthur leaned forward and kissed his mouth, letting his tongue taste the sweat and sex on the man’s lips. He started kissing down his chest towards his cock, but was stopped short.

“Ah, ah, not yet, I want you to beg for a taste of it.” The man’s smile was as sly as a fox.

“I’m not really the begging type,” Arthur leaned back on his hands with a look of dismay on his face.

“There’s plenty of time to fix that, darling.” Eames leaned forward and kissed his forehead. He reached into his back pocket and pulled a set of handcuffs, glistening, into the light. Before Arthur could protest, his right wrist was firmly fixed to the bedpost. “It’s just a shame that it won’t be tonight.”

“What?” Eames slid off the bed and poured another whiskey which he shot back. “Where are you going?”

“I’m headed home to take care of some business,” He glanced down at the erection straining against his trousers. “And then I’m going to get some breakfast. When you’re ready to talk business, you can meet me in your room at the Silver Line. Until then, darling,” He tossed the prescription bottle at his chest. “Good night.”


End file.
